O waves of the ocean, akin to the blood in my veins,
Ye ever unfettered are coursing to other domains,
Ye ever are lonely in chillness of ebb and of flow,
And, — alone or united, — we pine in uncomforted woe.
Why may I not breathe and course on as a wave of the sea?
On earth I am lonely, and cold is the spirit in me,
I likewise am speeding to other, to other domains, —
O waves of the ocean, akin to the blood in my veins!
О, волны морские, родная стихия моя,
Всегда вы свободно бежите в иные края,
Всегда одиноки в холодном движеньи своём,
А мы безутешно тоскуем — одни и вдвоём.
Зачем не могу я дышать и бежать, как волна,
Я в мире один, и душа у меня холодна,
Я также спешу всё в иные, в иные края, —
О, волны морские, родная стихия моя!
«I love that you are not obsessed with me / I love that I am not with you either. / And our heavy globe called Earth / Will never float beneath our feet. / I love that — I can be with you, silly, / Feel free — and do not play with words. / And do not blush with a breath-taking wave / ...»
«The Moon is like the round shield / Of a hero slain decades ago. / My heart is sick with a vague guilt / And of presentiments aglow. Through a smocky medow, and field, / And a deep ocean, a cruel foe, / With th' tilted forwars spear and shield, / Steals slowly up my monster woe. Excite...»
«Yes, I know, we're not a pair, / In some other land I was born, / What I like is not the guitar / But the wild blows of a horn. Not to gowns and tails I deliver / My best poems in luxurious halls, / I would rather read them to a river, / To the clouds and waterfalls. And I love, like i...»
«Be blessed the finest wine that 's loving us, / And the good bread that goes for us to a roaster, / And the hot woman that will first harass / But finally allow us to test her. Yet, what we'll do with Phoebus' chariot / That conveys Sun, harnessed with its six horses, / With dawn cool and...»